Grasping Ghosts
by akmarceau
Summary: Downton Abbey is falling apart, but the people inside still have stories. When two people come across the Abbey in a storm, the people inside- servants and family alike- have stories and memories they'd like to share. Everyone appears in this story, but most of the focus is on Mr. Carson/ Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Crawley/ Dr. Clarkson, and Matthew/ Mary.
1. Chapter 1

This is an AU set way after the show, close to 2113.

I also have to say, I used two big writing no: the exclamation points ("They're like teeth, you only want a few pulled"), and the quotations in italics.

Enjoy!

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The rain created puddles in the gravel and overgrown grass. Stone walkways were cracked and weeds invaded. A rusted gate held by rotted pins, looked ready to crumble the minute it was touched. Beyond the gates stood a neglected castle. Paint chipped, windows were broken or boarded, and ugly green plants claimed the main entranceway. There was once intricate designs on the siding and roof, but it was now broken rubble. Gardens held dead, overgrown plants with rotting fruits and vegetables. The flowers, which probably thrived beautifully, now withered as the weeds claimed their nutrients; like a parasite would a host.

Lightning struck across the sky and thunder rolled as the grey clouds let more rain fall.

Hand in hand, a man and woman ran through the broken neglected town. Houses were collapsed in on themselves, walls which once protected the hospital and the Crawley house were piles of stone. Muddied shoes stomped through puddle after puddle as they approached the gates. The man pulled the woman into him for a kiss. The rain seemed not to bother the two as they stood in each other's arms. The roll of thunder made them jump apart. Giggling, the woman took the man's hand and dragged him carefully between the rusted, iron gates.

"This must be the entrance to the town!" The woman yelled above the rain and thunder. "We can follow this and possibly find someone on the main road!"

The man nodded. They continued the path as fast as they could. The woman sneezed and a shiver coursed through her body. The cold rain had matted her hair to her face. The wet tendrils hung in clumps around her delicate features and just dripped more water down her back which wasn't absorbed by her shirt because it was already soaked through. Her jeans were also soaked and mud was visible up to her knees.

_She might be catching hypothermia_, the man thought. He struggled to remember the symptoms and how to care for her. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over their heads. Why he hadn't thought of this before was a mystery.

"Come on," the man encouraged. "I think I can see the road." The man could see something, but he doubted it was road. As they neared, he saw the old castle. With a goal insight, the man put forth a burst of sped. The woman was not prepared for this and stumbled on an exposed tree root. She fell with a faint _thud_ and let out a string of curse words. The man immediately dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain the gravel created from the impact. The man helped her up and quickly examined her the best he could. Her knees and hands were bloodied and scratched.

"There's a castle up ahead! We can wait out the storm in there!" The man yelled. The woman nodded and gritted her teeth as the hail-like rain pounded against the wounds. Step after step, they made their way to the castle. The man pulled weeds from the door, not halting to the bugs and thorns. He hung his jacket over the woman's shoulders (which she gratefully pulled around her shivering form). The man produced a flashlight which showed him where the handle was. He turned the knob with such fragility, the woman thought the storm would end before the door opened. Once the crack was big enough for them to slip in, they did.

Other than the chipping paint, peeling wallpaper, and broken or boarded windows the house was still intact. The man sat the woman down in a green chair near a marble fireplace. Breaking two side tables, the man made quick with his hands and soon a roaring fire was brewing. The man moved the woman directly in front of the fire and kissed her temple. Gently he peeled soaked layer after soaked layer from her shivering body. He laid the clothes out over the fire.

He kissed temple once more before saying, "There has to be a bedroom with blankets somewhere, I'll be back." The woman nodded, too cold to argue. The man quickly ascended the grand staircase with caution. The house was old, caution would be the main thing. The flashlight showed wall after wall and finally, there came a door. The man opened the door and let out a sigh as he saw it to be a bedroom. Quickly, he pulled off the comforter and top sheet. He grabbed two pillows. There were moth holes everywhere, but it would be better than wet clothes. The man grabbed everything and was about to leave the room when some force stopped him. Suddenly, he felt sad and worried. The man turned back to the bed. He tried to gasp, scream, and run away. He couldn't do any.

A blueish-white transparent figure appeared on the bed as convulsion after convulsion racked through her body and made her back arch. More figures appeared around the foot of the bed. Three men were arguing but the man watching couldn't hear what they were saying. His eyes met the doctor's and suddenly, the man felt like he could've prevented the scene ing font of him. Sorrow filled the man. Someone was knelt next to the convulsing woman, her mother, the suspected. And the man telling her to breathe was probably her husband. The scene was quiet at first, then slowly the volume built.

_"You have to help her!" _

_"Do something!"_

_"Breathe! Breathe, Sybil, breathe!"_

As quickly and suddenly as the woman appeared moving, she stopped. People say that eyes are the pathway to the soul, and at that moment the man watching finally understood that. Sybil, the once convulsing woman laid pale and still. Her eyes were wide with terror, but love was also evident. Love for her siblings, parents, and husband. Suddenly the scene became deafly quiet. The mother was crying, sobs racking her body. The husband was teary-eyed starring like a lost puppy at his dead wife. The doctor's shoulders sank, suddenly the man watching felt like he knew this would happen. He felt like he had warned everyone and an "I told you so," hung on his lips. A small child's wail came from down the hall, and everyone glanced at the door. The man felt his own heart reach for the family. The daughter lost parents, wifeless husband, and motherless child.

The blueish-white figures disappeared; fading back to wherever they came from. The child's wails were the lsat to go.

Whatever force had kept the man still evaporated with the wails and the man gulped fresh air. Quickly, he left the room and hurried back down the stairs. He would care for the woman and leave when the storm passed. The figures would not alter that. He reached the wide platform stair and looked up at the woman. She was frozen in one spot, half standing half sitting, staring blankly at the blueish-white transparent figures, the same he had seen seconds ago. The family members seemed to be facing him and what could be servants had their backs towards him. The force held him again to the present scene. A young man and a woman walked throughout the entranceway. The woman who entered walked to the oldest member of the family line.

_"What should we call each other?"_

_"Well," _ the older woman replied. _"We could always start-" _figures around the two slowly disappeared. _"With Mrs. Crawley-" _the woman who approached the older woman disappeared, but the older woman kept talking. _"And Lady Grantham." _Lady Grantham, the older woman, disappeared too.

The woman and man were released from the motionless hold. Simultaneously gulped the fresh air and looked at each other wide-eyed.

"What was that?" The woman asked as the man placed the blankets over he shoulders.

"No idea. But they don't seem to harm us, we'll leave the minute you're better and the storm is over," the man promised. The woman didn't argue she didn't want to go back out in that storm. The man sat the woman back down and took off his shirt and pants, placing them to dry next to the woman's clothes. He took two pillowcases. The first one he ripped three holes, one for his head and two for his arms. Immediately, he was warmer. The second pillow case, he broke two holes for his legs. He tied the pillowcase around his waist. His makeshift shorts and t-shirt were not too bad. Warmer than his wet clothes but the moth holes brought the cool air to his skin.

"I'm going to fins some food, hopefully, and water we can warm," the man announced making sure the woman was comfortable before he went on his search. There was a rather simple door against a back wall near the dinning room. The man assumed it lead down to the kitchen and he was correct. The flashlight showed the untouched kitchen. A bowl of dried something was waiting to be mixed,a filled kettle was on an old stove, and molded bread was in the oven. The man took hold of the kettle and the blueish-white transparent figures appeared again.

_"Daisy!" _A redhead plump cook called to the younger skiing one.

_"Yes, Mrs. Patmore?" _The young lady responded, not stopping her mixing.

_"The bread needs to go in the oven or else it wont be ready in time," _ the cook told the cooking hand as she rotated between putting the finishing spices on a roast and stirring a stew. The figures disappeared and the man gulped in air. He was getting used to just watching the scenes. The man walked into what he assumed was the servants hall and was thrown into the motionless force. A big burly man, hair neatly pulled to the side and a full piece suit stood at the corner of the table. Besides him stood a little woman, hair piled immaculately out of her way. She wore a simple dress with a silver chain of keys attached to her belt.

The two seemed to be in deep conversation when all of a sudden they turned to face the man. They didn't seem to look directly at him but rather behind him. The man watching pivoted to see redish-white transparent figures appear through a door. They rushed into the servants hall, guns pointing at the two. The burly man in the suit pulled the little woman behind him, successfully hiding her from the redish-white figures. Angrily they kept thrusting their guns in the burly man's face. The man's hand blindly reached for the woman's. She placed her hand in his and leaned her back against his. She had a hand over her heart and she was mumbling something. First the man couldn't hear but then he could.

_"… I have always loved you. I loved your care, your compassion, your faith, your worry with my cancer scare. You were always there for me, and I fell in love."_

The burly man smiled sadly and whispered, _"I love you, Elsie. I always have." _The men with guns didn't seem to like that the two didn't seem to fear them. Slowly they closed around the couple. Two people on the burly man and two people on the little lady behind him. She clutched his hand as one shot tore through her small body. He clutched hers as one tore through his.

Her hand moved from her heart to the wound, she kept muttering, _"I love you, Charlie. I love you, Charlie," _in her own mantra as death slowly claimed her. Her mantra fell on deaf ears, for the burly man had slumped over. His shot had gone through his heart. She held his hand till the last breath she took. The redish-white figures went first, then the little woman, and finally the burly man.

The man observing wasn't real eased from his motionless hold until her heard, _"I love you, Mrs. Hughes."_

The observing man was released from his force and he gulped air. He couldn't get enough air, he couldn't breathe. He gasped and every time he did, he lost what little air his lungs had. He felt like someone had taken a vacuum to his mouth and wouldn't move it. The kettle slipped from his hands and spilled onto the floor, and his limp body followed.

xXx

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Please review!

I might do another chapter, but that depends on what everyone thinks :)


	2. She did this

I'm glad everyone is liking this and I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to update.

Enjoy!

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The man woke on cold time floor. Groggily he sat up slowly and looked around. The tea kettle he had was spilling dirty water to the dusty floor. The man grabbed what was left in the tea kettle and continued his exploration. He wondered why the red figures (he wasn't ready to call them ghosts) took his breath away- literally. To conclude the figures to be ghosts would mean they were haunting the castle. It didn't seem like the figures meant to harm anyone, nor did it seem like the figures were haunting the place. They just seemed like they thought someone should know their story, and the man fully understood.

He came across a small room in the hallway behind the kitchen and cautiously, the man entered. An old, slightly I legible book lay open on a mahogany desk with wine bottles covered in feet of dust, and cobwebs. The room looked as if it hadn't been touched for over two hundreds years- and it probably hadn't been. Suddenly, he was thrown into a motionless hold and Mr. Carson appeared at the desk marking the wine bottles into the book one by one.

A knock on the door sounded from behind the onlooking man and the blueish-white Mr. Carson looked up from his work and smiled.

"_Mrs. Hughes, to what do I owe the pleasure?_" Mr. Carson asked as he stood to politely welcome the woman.

"_I have someone who is refusing to sleep without a story,_" Mrs. Hughes entered the room holding a little girl's hand tightly in her own.

"_Lady Mary,_" Mr. Carson said as the girl ran into his arms. Mr. Carson picked her up and sat back down on his chair, setting the little girl on his lap. "_You should be asleep. I hope you haven't bothered Mrs. Hughes…_" Mr. Carson let his sentence trail. Mrs. Hughes shook her head lightly at them and walked up behind Lady Mary and in front of Mr. Carson. Carefully, Mrs. Hughes took out the girl's braid. "_There once was an old man who worked all his life. One day, this man met a beautiful young woman._" Mrs. Hughes smiled as her finger masterly switched the threads of hair. "_She was the prettiest woman in the whole world. Her smile made the stars hide, her eyes made puppies shrink away, and her laugh was lovelier than any music every played,_" Mary giggled lightly, covering her mouth as graceful as a three year old could. "_The man fell deeply in love with the woman and one day he decided to tell her. So he told her he loved her and-_"

"_Her smile grew and she told him she loved him too,_" Mrs. Hughes finished happily, tying the plait with a pristine ribbon. Mrs. Hughes gently rubbed the girl's back and lifted her off Mr. Carson's lap, onto her hip. "_You got your story, m'lady, time for bed._" The little girl didn't protest and wrapped her arms tightly around Mrs. Hughes's neck.

"_Carson?_" Mary asked quietly.

"_Yes, Lady Mary?_"

"_Are the two people you and Mrs. Hughes?_"

Mr. Carson chuckled nervously and said, "_No, m'lady. It wasn't about Mrs. Hughes and I._"

Mrs. Hughes's smile fell, but Mr. Carson didn't seem to notice. Mrs. Hughes protectively held the child and muttered something funny to little Mary.

"_Good night, Carson,_" Mary called over 's shoulder.

"_Good night, m'lady. Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes,_" Mr. Carson whispered to his favorite child and caring housekeeper. Mrs. Hughes didn't respond and left without glancing back. A crestfallen Mr. Carson slowly started to disappear. Lady Mary and Mrs. Hughes were already gone and the man was released from his hold.

He gulped air and continued to search the servant's hall. He approached another door. This one was similar to the last except it had a more feminine touch. What appeared to once be white lace hung over tables, and pictures (now darkened and definable) were immaculately placed to once lighten the room a bit. The man was thrown into a motionless hold.

"_I thought it might be nice to cheer it up a bit,_" Mrs. Hughes appeared holding a black hat that looked very dull and sad.

"_Easier said than done,_" a woman said as she appeared in front of Mrs. Hughes. She was tall and skinny, had black hair pulled strictly in to a bun. One curl rested on her forehead.

"_Perhaps with a tower or a bit of veil or something…_" Mrs. Hughes suggested.

"_I can find you veil,_" the woman said, "_if you like. I hope you're not expecting me to do it._"

"_Not if you're busy._"

"_Good._"

The woman disappeared to a thin blue mist quickly, but Mrs. Hughes was left starring blankly at the hat. Slowly, Mrs. Hughes turned to look at the man and she seemed to see him. Unlike the other times when the man was just given a scene to look at and nobody seemed to recognize him, Mrs. Hughes was able to see him and talk what somewhat freely.

"_She did this. She did this to all of us. She did this,_" Mrs. Hughes ranted as she painfully tried to stand. She took a step towards the man, her skin falling in clumps from her face to the ground. Her dress decayed with moth holes. She walked to the man in bone and with each small step, something fell. Her jaw, her fingers, her ribs.

"_She did this. She did this to all of us. She did this._"

The man was released from the hold, and collapsed to his knees. He gulped air. Having had enough for the moment, the man hurried up the way he had came. The woman was sleep on the floor, the blankets pulled tightly around her small frame.

The kettle the man had found, now barely enough for water for the two, was set onto of the fire to hopefully clean it up a bit. Something was different, the man concluded as he looked hastily around the great foyer.

Something was definitely different; the storm was over. He ripped up his makeshift outfit fastened from pillowcases and put his dry clothes back on. Gently, he woke the girl.

"Storm's over. Get dressed," the man whispered, handing her the dry clothes. The woman woke quickly and threw on her clothes as fast as she could. "Come on," the man said sweetly with a small smile as she took his hand and they ran to the front door.

They were four feet at the most away from the door when both were thrown into a motionless hold.

The red figures that had appeared downstairs stormed through the hall.

"_Who is that?_" A man with greying hair yelled from the dinning room. The figures nodded at each other and ran to the room. The man and woman couldn't see what was going on, but they could hear. The man suspected the figures surrounded those in the dinning room, daring them to speak with their guns.

"_Who-_" someone started to talk and that was the first bullet. Followed by another, and another. The man counted twelve shots.

The red figures rushed back out the front door. The last one out tipped his hat to the man and woman. Like the last encounter with these red figures, the man wasn't immediately released from the hold and neither was the woman.

"_You won't be able to leave until you get our story._"

"_She did this. She did this to all of us. She did this._"

The man and woman were released from their hold.

Both collapsed.

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Please review!

This chapter was a little jumpy and I do apologize, plus any and all mistakes are my own.


	3. Wait

Again, so sorry it took me forever to update. This chapter is free handed (as I am on a three hour train ride home) and is a slight filler (because my plot line for this is on a window and sadly, the window was too big to bring with me on the train). AND I finally gave a name to our man.

Enjoy!

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The woman woke first. Groggily, she sat up and looked around. Something about the figures off set her, she just couldn't put her finger on it. Cautiously, she sat up and looked around. They laid where they had fallen. The storm was still finished. Nothing had seemed to change. It was if time had stopped after the red figures had came barging in.

Carefully, the woman took a step towards the door. Nothing happened. She took another, more confident step. Still, nothing happened. She made it to the doors. Slowly, she pried them open. Nothing happened.

The overgrown drive had puddles from the storm, but the skies were clear and blue. The woman smiled and turned back to the house.

"Hey, the storm is gone," She said as she gently rubbed the man's back. "Jack, wake up," the woman's smile fell from her face as she turned her gentle rub into a vigorous shake. "Jack, let's go. Get up! Jack!" The woman rolled Jack from his stomach to his back.

His face was pale.

His blue eyes were glossed.

His body was cold.

The woman's breathing became shallow. Franticly, she felt for Jack's pulse on his neck. Nothing. She felt for one on his wrist. With a sigh of relief, the woman felt a pulse. Barely there, mind you, but it was better than nothing. The woman carefully moved Jack's brown hair off his forehead and placed a kiss on his temple. Reluctantly, she stood and ran to get the blanket she had previously laid with to cover Jack. She tucked him in, trying her best to make sure he would wake warm. With a piece of charcoal, she wrote 'BE RIGHT BACK' on the wood floor and drew a little heart. She was going to find help, and if Jack woke, she wanted to make sure he would know she would be back.

xXx

She ran through the deserted town; through the puddles. They had passed a small hospital on the way into the castle, perhaps, there was something- anything- that would help her help Jack.

The gravel dug into the soles of her shoes, she didn't care.

She ran as fast as her legs would let her to the broken walls around the quaint hospital. Or once quaint hospital.

The wooden door had been torn from it's hinges and laid carelessly on the grass. Stones were missing from the building. Overgrown grass grew in littered patches and weeds had overtaken the building's windows. Choosing her footing carefully, the woman entered the hospital and looked around. She didn't know where to start looking or what to look for.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid me," the woman muttered as she rethought her previous idea. She wasn't a doctor or a nurse and she had never taken medicine or had a shot or knew anything in the medical field. She would need to leave this town and find someone who knew how to care for Jack. Quickly, she turned to leave the hospital. Before she reached the door, she was thrown into a motionless hold.

Mrs. Crawley appeared, translucent blue, in the hospital. A man appeared. He stood next to her, one of his hands on her shoulder, the other in her hand.

"_Fix it,_" Mrs. Crawley whispered. With the words out of her mouth, the blue light that engulfed the two of them grew ever so slightly to encompass part of the hospital. Once the rotted wooden floor was covered in the blue glow, it fixed itself. It was no longer rotted but rather fresh, clean wood.

"_Fix it,_" Mrs. Crawley said again. The blue light grew. It encompassed more of the floor and started to climb up the walls. The speckled and peeling paint was taken into the blue light and looked brand new.

"_Fix it,_" Mrs. Crawley said in a slightly raised tone. The broken and boarded windows became clean and perfect.

"_Fix it!_" Mrs. Crawley screamed. Her voice raged and the blue light grew, encompassing the whole hospital. The woman moved her eyes as much as she could. The grounds were covered in the blue light. The grass was green and cut, the stone wall was fixed, and there was a beautiful garden. The woman moved her eyes back to Mrs. Crawley and the man.

"_My love,_" the man whispered as Mrs. Crawley's figure started to disappear.

"Wait!" The woman found herself saying. The figures stopped. They froze. "Wait," the woman said again, the motionless hold releasing her slightly. "I need your help," the woman's words echoed off the walls. The hold released more of her, her hands moved, her feet moved. She moved closer to the two. "My friend, he's not well."

The man removed his hands from Mrs. Crawley. "_What's wrong?_"

"Figures. Red figures visited the castle. He won't wake," the woman explained quickly.

"_Richard-_" Mrs. Crawley tried to grab his attention.

"_Red figures? What did they look like?_"

"They carried guns and barged into the castle and-"

"_Richard-_" Mrs. Crawley tried again.

"_How-_" Richard paused and took a deep breath. "_How many shots?_"

"Twelve. I think twelve."

"_Oh my, Richard, that's the family,_" Mrs. Crawley said as a hand shakily covered her mouth. She knew it meant the family, all of them. Cora's mother and brother, the Dowager Countess of Grantham, Rose, Rosamund, Tom Branson, Cora, Robert, Edith, Mary, herself, and Richard.

"_And- and downstairs. Were there figures there too?_" Richard asked as her wrapped his arms around Mrs. Crawley.

"I don't know," the woman replied honestly. The blue light that had grown with Mrs. Crawley's voice was slowly shrinking. It was as if the light had grown with Mrs. Crawley's power, and now as she fell apart, the light had no power. "Please, my friend. He isn't waking-"

"_I can't help you_," Richard whispered.

"Wait!" the woman pleaded as she raced towards them. The blue light slowly faded. With the fading light, Mrs. Crawley and Richard faded too. "Wait," the woman pleaded, "Wait."

Mrs. Crawley was gone. Richard was gone.

"What am I going to do?" the woman asked as she sank slowly to her knees and wept.

xXx

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Please review!

Sorry it's sorta a filler chapter :)


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